


A Spider (Deep In My Soul)

by newyorktopaloalto



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: An odd reaction to alcohol. Archer doesn't quite know what to do about the entire matter.





	A Spider (Deep In My Soul)

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1 or 2 makes the most sense, because it's pretty light for the rest of the series. [vegalocity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegalocity) and I were joking around about ENT and this came about. Thanks to Renee for word help and for listening to me rant a little about the entire thing. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own ENT - please don't sue. The song sung is [ from IASiP](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWpKhVf8hyk%22) and the title is from the same. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy this bit of fun!

The bar was a crush of noise and aliens, languages with no hope of translation bandied about like tithe and drinks passing from one appendage to another, a veritable dance of filling, draining, and refilling known to most of the patrons in the establishment. And while the crew of the Enterprise did not look too terribly out of place, it was more than likely obvious to the bar's regulars that they were not up to snuff in regard with the station's customs. 

Parlaju gth'Karti sa Riddalf, the leader of the Veentai fifth-column coalition that Archer had been in clandestine contact with regarding the Veentai's crimes against their own colonies, had not shown up at their agreed upon time of meeting. After an hour of awkward waiting around, Archer had finally dismissed his officers to enjoy the time that they would have otherwise wasted sitting and looking like total outsiders; which—they _were_ total outsiders, but Archer felt as though his point still stood. Sato and Reed laughed uproariously at the table in the corner they had commandeered. In counterpoint, T'Pol was sitting cross-legged and stiff-backed at the bar itself—a Tellarite pair on the right side of her, and a fully-suited alien of some sort on the left—an assured equivalent of tonic water clutched tightly in her hand as she intermittently scanned the bar for their wayward associate. 

It was then, with a discordant slamming of what Archer had deemed close enough to a piano to count as such, that his attention—along with the entire patronage of the bar—was directed toward the small stage set up on the far end of the building. 

“There's a spider,” a voice sung, the head of a dishwater blond at the bench unrecognizable to Archer in the hazy atmosphere—the person then echoed himself twice to denote the importance of the word 'spider.' “He's deep in my soul, soul.” 

A catcall from a species Archer didn't recognize, and it was when the figure at the piano turned to shoot a wink at the alien that Archer turned back to his drink and his perusal of the bar for Parlaju gth'Karti sa Riddalf. The song, despite its minor key, was catchy in a way that Archer couldn't help but pay attention to. 

“He's lived here for years, and he just won't let go” the singer continued. “He's lying around, he's got a mean bite.” 

Idly, and mostly due to seeing T'Pol's expression change from disinterested to distressed, Archer slowly started to realize that he actually understood the lyrics being sung—which could only mean... 

“Now he's ready to fight.” 

English. 

The key change was the final clue, and Archer recognized the unruly blond for what it was—his chief engineer. The note sustained. “And stand up for what he knows...” 

Archer stood up from his seat, not noticing the chair toppling backwards in a screech—in his peripheral he saw Reed do much the same; thankful that the armory officer was closer to Tucker than Archer, himself was, the captain of the Enterprise found it easier to let Reed do his job than to interfere in a situation he felt he would only make worse. 

“I don't need your trophies or your gold.” Reed was blocked by a wall of patrons who seemed drunkenly amused by the alien who spoke a language they didn't know. “I just want to tell you all—” 

What would be said next, Archer knew wouldn't be anything good—he closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to endue quite as much second-hand embarrassment. 

“Go fuck yourselves.” 

And there it was. 

The amused 'oh, shit,' from Sato was hardly heard by Archer to make way for Tucker's vocalizing before another heartfelt 'go fuck yourselves,' came out of his mouth. And though none of the patrons likely knew what was being said exactly, by their hollering, they probably understood the gist of it. 

By the time Reed managed to get to the stage, Tucker had started spitting at the audience. There was a struggle, then, Reed hauling Tucker up by the waist to get him away from the piano, Tucker wailing vocals, voice wavering as he struggled to continue to stay in easy reach of the microphone, the crowd both jeering and cheering the two men on in their endeavour. 

“I am so sorry,” Reed plead into the microphone, his own vaguely intoxicated state making his statement a little blearier than it usually would have been—Archer was mildly impressed that he had not started spitting upon patrons as well, because the tactical officer sure as hell wasn't stopping Tucker from continuing to do that very thing. “He's not normally like this, I swear.” 

Reed, dragging Tucker away—who was assiduously planting his heels into the floor—with more than a marginal effort, shot a pleading look at Archer. Archer, much to his own chagrin, took a long moment to start moving, more than a little thrown by the scene before him. 

Archer then paved way for the two men, whistling for T'Pol and Sato to follow them in their wake; thankfully—because the two women were more competent off-duty than anyone else, Archer included, seemed to be—it didn't take them more than a few seconds to pick up what he was putting down, and they moved with an elegant grace behind the hulking forms that made up Reed manhandling Tucker away from his still captive audience. 

“Fuck you motherfuckers!” Tucker yelled gleefully, Reed manhandling him out of the door that Archer held open in mute astonishment at his friend's beatific behavior. Sato followed the men, giggling, and T'Pol followed behind her, eyebrow twitching in a modicum of annoyance.

* * *

Parlaju gth'Karti sa Riddalf, of course, would continue to be a no-show for the rest of their stay on Station F7-091.B6. 

Tucker spent two days in sickbay, Phlox more than happy to monitor the human's allergic reaction to the intoxicants found in the drinks he consumed in the bar. 

Reed, a little beat up from Tucker's desperate attempt to get away from his friend, spent a day in the infirmary, himself. 

T'Pol and Sato would most likely never let any of them down for their parts in the fiasco. 

And Archer? Archer would have to make an official report to Admiral Forrest, so that about evened out the situation.

**Author's Note:**

> xoxo


End file.
